Watching a 6-hour interview with David Heinemeier Hansson (aka DHH) from Lex Fridman (man, 6 hours is a lot; that’s insane), I’m realizing that DHH is a superhero. Yeah, I’m noticing that DHH is kind of a god in some web echo chamber (mainly on Twitter) and I don’t even know if he has some merits, so maybe my judgment is affected by this, but I don’t care; this is my blog.
I want to highlight a passage of this interview starting from 1.32.31 where he’s talking about AI usage in programming (but that’s not the theme I want to focus on):
DHH about programming
I really care about the competence, and I’ve seen what happens to even great programmers the moment they put away the keyboard. Because, even before AI, this would happen as soon as people would get promoted. Most great programmers who work in large businesses stop writing code on a daily basis because they simply have too many meetings to attend to, and they have too many other things to do. And invariably, they lose touch with programming. That doesn’t mean they forget everything, but, if you don’t have your finger in the sauce, source, you’re going to lose touch with it. There’s just no other way. I don’t want that because I enjoy it too much. This is not about outcomes, and this is crucial to understand: programming for programmers who like to code is not just about the programs they get out of it; that may be the economic value, but it’s not the only human value. The human value is just much in the expression. When someone who sits down on a guitar and plays “Stairway to Heaven”, there’s a perfect recording of that that will last in eternity. You can just put it on Spotify, you don’t actually need to do it. But the joy is to command the guitar yourself. The joy of a programmer, of me as a programmer, is to type the code myself. If I promote myself out of programming, I turn myself into a project manager, a project manager of a murder of AI crows, as I wrote the other day. I could have become a project manager for my whole career. I could have become a project manager 20 years ago if I didn’t care to write code myself and I just wanted outcomes. That’s how I got started in programming: I just wanted outcomes, then I fell in love with programming, and now I’d rather retire than give it up.
Yeah, he’s not one of those dinosaurs who are against the usage of AI, and from this moment onwards he talks about how he uses AI daily in the smartest possible way, but I don’t care. My current thought is about this part.
DHH reported exactly my feelings, and I really love the way he expressed the whole concept, even the comparison with playing a guitar. I’m deeply grateful that someone with such a legendary reputation said these words. I would love to be a programmer with his same great passion he has (and honestly, I would be satisfied with just a tenth of his expertise). Even more, I want to live the act of programming in the same way he does. Just look at him: six hours of discussion, exploring a wide variety of topics, always with the same passion and joy.
Sorry, but I need to talk a bit more about DHH. Maybe I am becoming one of those people who idolize someone just because they see one side of the coin and have not yet realized the other. Yeah, that could definitely be true. But he’s such a great communicator, and honestly, I could listen to him for ten hours straight without even needing to stretch my back. That’s the reason why I started following him and his projects as well. He just released Omarchy 3.0, which is a minimal Linux distro for programmers (well, maybe not a distro in the classical sense), based on Arch and Hyprland for window tile management; I’ll try it as soon as possible. He talks passionately for six hours about several topics with the same great intensity; he’s just an awesome guy.
I feel a little embarrassed comparing my feelings to DHH’s because, at the end of the day, I’ve only been trying to be a programmer for a bit more than a year. Most of the time, I feel like a dumb programmer, so I hear that little voice saying “How much do you think you know about it?“. But I don’t care. Again, that’s my blog.
BUT, here’s the twist: I have a colleague who is my own DHH reflection. I’ve already mentioned him in several posts of this blog, but I need to dedicate a few lines to him. I’ll dedicate the following line to him because I have to. In May 2024, I was nobody. I didn’t know anything about programming. Meeting him was pure luck, because everything I currently know and everything I can do is thanks to him. Beyond technical skills, his real gift was constantly talking passionately with me about programming, giving me book suggestions, and pushing me to dig deeper instead of staying at the surface. He taught me not to be mediocre. That’s the most important lesson, and I’ll never be able to thank him enough for what he did for me.
He’s leaving the company in a few days, and maybe I’m making too much of a drama out of this, but I can’t help it. He’s that unique guide who suddenly goes away. Of course, I couldn’t hope that we would work together forever, but for a few more years, why not? Things are the way they are. And now, I can’t help wondering: when will I meet the next DHH reglection, and who will it be?